In the Blood (Season 5, Episode 1)
by bionic4ever
Summary: (Season 5, Episode 1) As the Austins prepare to become a family of 3, are there new threats to their happiness...and their lives?
1. Prologue

**In the Blood**- Season 5, Episode 1

Prologue

''Steve...I'm _FAT_!'' Jaime moaned, turning sideways, forward and back again in front of the full length mirror.

Steve embraced his wife from behind, his hands resting on the barely visible bulge in her tummy. ''Sweetheart, you're _pregnant_ - meaning that isn't fat...that's _baby_. And only four months' worth of baby...so you're gonna get a whole lot fatter!''

Jaime turned around - and slugged him. ''Steve Austin, you just called me fat!'' she laughed.

''No...I just said you'd get fatter...oh.'' He kissed her to silence whatever recriminations might have followed.

Jaime chuckled to herself; he always knew exactly how to get to her - and how to distract her from her troubles. While she might be more emotional than usual (in general), this could be a difficult day...for both of them. A gentle kiss and the opportunity to melt into her husband's arms for at least a few minutes was just what they _both _needed.

It had taken more legal wrangling than expected - and finally an order from Judge Rafferty - but Michael's blood had been drawn for typing that morning. Any moment now, Jaime and Steve expected to get news from the lab. If Michael's blood type differed from Steve's (and statistically, that would likely be the case), they'd easily be able to tell who the father was when the baby was born...or at least rule out who _wasn't _the father. They dreaded the knowledge and at times in the last couple of weeks they weren't sure they even wanted to know - they'd gone back and forth - but of course, they had to know!

Either way, Steve knew in his heart that he wouldn't love this baby any less, no matter what the eventual outcome. Jaime had to wonder about that; her husband was still so _angry_ at Michael over what he'd done! That was natural...but would his anger affect his feelings toward the baby...and toward her? And if the blood types were the same, what - exactly - would that mean? Would Steve always look at their baby with an eye toward finding features that resembled his own? It was something every new father did...but even that loving gesture would suddenly take on new meaning if they got no definitive answer from the blood typing. Steve swore it all made no difference - and most of the time, Jaime believed him. They were going to be a _family_, no matter what the blood tests showed...or didn't show.

When the phone rang, they both jumped from their embrace and stared at the source of the intrusive noise...almost afraid to answer it. Their eyes met for one more loving, reassuring gaze and then Steve picked up the phone. He listened for a moment and then frowned. It wasn't the lab. He held out the receiver to his wife with a disapproving look.

''It's Oscar...for you.''


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Unless you looked very closely, Jaime didn't yet appear pregnant. As she excitedly prepared for a clandestine meeting with a high level informant, she buttoned a loose jacket and gave her belly a protective rub. While she didn't remember her three previous years of service to the OSI, being an operative was already in her blood. It was something she was damn good at...and it made her proud.

Steve couldn't help but worry. He worried about her any time she went on a mission...but now, especially so. ''Sweetheart,'' he'd pleaded, ''let me talk to Oscar. I'm sure I can convince him to send me in your place.''

Jaime shook her head. ''Donald requested me; he knows me.''

''Exactly what worries me; he knows you because you sent his father to prison.''

''With his help,'' Jaime pointed out. ''I'll be careful; I promise...and I have to go now. I love you.'' After a quick but tender kiss, she was on her way.

Donald Harris was prompt - and true to his word. He showed up on time, with the files in hand. He had joined a firm fresh out of law school - and discovered by accident that what they were doing was far from legal. The firm operated as a front for the purchase (and subsequent sale) of government secrets...and they wanted Donald solely because of who his father was. What they didn't realize was that Donald didn't share Carlton Harris's warped beliefs of right and wrong. He'd spent months quietly gathering info and was now ready to do his part to bring them down before moving on.

He turned over the files - everything he'd gathered - to Jaime and the transfer went off without a hitch. Until they turned to go their separate ways...and found someone wasn't willing to let them leave. ''That's as far as you go,'' John Henson (the head of the law firm informed him, stepping into the room. ''Now give me those files and stand against that wall.'' His words were reinforced by gunmen that suddenly appeared at each of the room's two exits, blocking Jaime and Donald from leaving. With weapons trained on them from two separate locations, Jaime's couldn't use her favorite maneuver of knocking one gunman into the other. Her mind scrambled for a way out - and her left hand reached for her belly, subconsciously trying to protect the tiny life within. '_No bionic tricks_', Rudy had warned her...but what did that weigh against letting herself be shot?

''Donald, get down!'' she called out, springing into immediate action (because there really was no other choice). She swung her right arm out (the hand balled into a fist) and caught the gunman closest to her in the side of his head. In the same fluid motion, as her arm continued its swing, she picked up a desk chair and threw it in the direction of the second gunman, ducking to the floor just in time as a bullet whizzed past her head. She came up with the first thug's weapon in her hand and trained it on Henson.

''Any questions?'' she asked triumphantly.

* * *

It had been too close...and she knew it. As she rode back to National Medical to get checked out before returning home, Jaime remembered what Steve had said about situations turning bad - really bad - without warning. She had known at the time that he was right but today had been vivid proof. Still, she had managed to take control without extreme physical exertion (the desk chair hadn't been heavy, especially for a bionic arm). In a strange way, it had been exhilarating. Would she tell Steve everything that had happened? She wouldn't lie to him, of course, but was withholding news that would definitely be upsetting also a lie...or a kindness?

Meanwhile, back at home, Steve had received the call from the lab all alone. Between worrying about his wife and fretting about the phone call (which came much later than expected), he couldn't help himself; he was staring at the ice as it melted in his second glass of gin. The third glass would require new ice and he headed to the kitchen to fetch some...putting his fist through a side table as he went. He knew he should call Mark and talk it out...but 'should' suddenly didn't matter as much as trying to dull his anger in the quickest, most efficient way possible.

When Jaime walked through the door (with a still-clean bill of health and the news of her latest triumph to share), she found her husband asleep in the easy chair, a bottle of gin resting between his hip and the cushion...a broken side table...and a glass tipped over on the floor beside him, its contents spilled onto the carpet. She took in the ugly, unexpected scene and picked up the phone to make the call Steve _should _have made...then walked back to the easy chair and (with tears in her eyes) slapped him awake.

''What are you doing?'' she demanded while Steve struggled to focus. ''Or what _were_ you doing? Because whatever it was, you're done now!'' Jaime took the half-empty bottle of gin and held it accusingly in front of his face before flinging it into the fireplace.

''What...are you doing?'' Steve asked groggily. ''You...made a mess.''

''No! YOU made a mess! Look at yourself! Look at our living room! _Why_, Steve?''

Why, indeed...


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

While Jaime waited for Mark, she proceeded to give Steve a taste of her own brand of 'therapy'...Angry Pregnant Wife style. ''How could you do this?'' she fumed. ''WHY would you do this?''

''Jaime, I -'' Steve began.

''Save it! What if I'd run into trouble today? _You're drunk_, Steve! I'd have been up the creek with no paddle! No one to help me! In fact, there was trouble today; I was damn lucky to get outta there. But what if I hadn't? Oscar couldn't send you out..._like __**that**_!''

''Sweetheart...'' Steve reached out for Jaime, to touch her and maybe pull her onto his lap to talk, but she jerked away from him and out of his reach, her eyes blazing.

''No! Don't '_Sweetheart_' me - not right now! I'm NOT in the mood! You're damn lucky I only called Mark and not Oscar - do you know that?''

''I was...worried about you...''

''You've got a funny way of showing it, Austin! If you were _really_ worried, you'd have been here ready to go if I needed help! I didn't need help; I can handle myself just fine, thank you - but that's a _thank you _for nothing today!''

Jaime picked up the splintered pieces of what used to be a side table and dumped them in Steve's lap. ''Are you proud of yourself? I was proud of myself when I walked in that door tonight - and I couldn't wait to share it with you - and instead I find..._this_!''

''Jaime...please...you need to calm down. It's not good for the baby for you to -''

''You can save that too! You obviously weren't thinking of either one of us today! You were thinking of _yourself_! You know what? I'm gonna think of ME now! I'm gonna run a nice warm bubble bath and you - YOU - are gonna clean up the carpet, the table pieces AND the broken bottle before Mark gets here or you can just explain it all to him. In fact, you can explain it to him anyway, because I don't wanna hear it!''

With that, Jaime slammed into the bathroom and Steve was left to pick up the pieces - literally and figuratively. He staggered out to the trash with the broken table and cleaned the spilled drink from the carpet - but hadn't had time to clean up the broken gin bottle from the hearth when the doorbell rang. Mark didn't wait for an invitation; he used his key, unsure of what he might be walking into. Jaime had sounded at the absolute end of her rope but all she'd told him was she needed him...and it was _urgent_. Had she been on her way 'down' into a flashback? (Maybe something on the mission had been a delayed trigger.) Then he walked into the living room...and it was all instantly clear.

''Tell me you didn't,'' the therapist said quietly.

''I made...a real mess of things...'' Steve told him.

''I see that. Where's Jaime?''

''Taking a bubble bath. She's...a little upset.''

''Can you poke your head in and let her know I'm here, please?'' Mark requested.

Steve shook his head as he dumped the glass shards in the garbage. ''My face is the last one she wants to see right now.'' He sank heavily into the easy chair.

Mark knocked on the bathroom door himself and called Jaime's name. ''I'll be right out,'' she answered. ''See what you can do...out there...in the meantime?''

It was what he was there for. Mark took a seat in the rocking chair facing Steve and looked at him expectantly. When Steve had nothing to say for himself, the doctor quickly took charge. ''Care to tell me what just happened here?'' Steve hung his head guiltily, unable to find the words through the fog of alcohol. ''You know you're very lucky Oscar didn't decide to come here to debrief your wife. You'd have earned yourself a suspension.''

''I know.''

''You know - but do you care?'' Mark asked softly.

''Been through this already...with Jaime.''

''Well now you'll go through it with me - and with both of us. Steve, I thought you realized this wasn't an answer. And with your body's make up, it's also dangerous.'' (Since Steve had less flesh and blood than other men of his size and weight, alcohol hit his system faster and each drink raised his blood alcohol higher than if his legs and arm were also flesh and blood.) ''You could reach a toxic level of alcohol very quickly, without intending or even realizing it...until it's too late.''

''I didn't have _that _much...''

''You had enough to upset your wife when she got home - and enough to be sitting here glassy eyed and slurring your words. Are you _trying _to kill yourself? Is that it?''

''Of course not...''

''Then _think_, dammit!'' Mark told him emphatically. ''And stop doing this to yourself before something truly tragic happens.''

''Something...has, Doc,'' Steve began to explain. In his haze, he didn't notice that Jaime had come out of the bathroom and stood in the hallway in her comfy sweats, gathering her courage (and trying to shake off her own anger) before joining them. ''The phone call from the lab...'' Steve went on. ''Michael and I...Doc, we have the same blood type.''


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jaime had stood there, around the corner in the hallway, unseen and silent, and had heard the news. It all made sense to her now...and she knew what she had to do. She padded on quiet feet into the bedroom and closed the door with the very softest (almost inaudible) click. In the living room, believing Jaime was either luxuriating in her bubbles (and she deserved it) or getting dressed, Mark continued to give Steve what _he _so richly deserved.

''Alright,'' he told Steve (with very quiet but undisguised anger), ''you got a phone call that wasn't what you'd hoped to hear. I suppose you'll tell me that's a good reason - no, a good _excuse_- to endanger your life by risking alcohol poisoning?''

''I didn't really think...about that,'' Steve admitted.

''Or a good _excuse_ for endangering your standing in the OSI - and especially an _excuse _for endangering your wife? If she'd needed help -''

''She didn't.''

''That's not the point,'' Mark argued softly. ''If she _had_ needed help, could Russ do what you can? Could anyone? You not only risked your own life when you picked up that bottle - you risked Jaime's. And the baby's. All for the _excuse _of a phone call you didn't like?'' Mark shook his head. ''How many excuses are you going to make, Steve? How many times are you going to say 'I get it' - and then turn around and do the same damn thing again?''

''Are you through?'' Steve asked.

''Barely getting started, but if you have something to say, I'm also here to listen. So go ahead. But make it count.''

''You're right. And...Jaime's right. I guess...even though I was braced for it, it hit me hard. And Jaime wasn't here...''

''But that bottle was,'' Mark concluded.

''Yeah. And it kept me from putting my fist through the wall.'' (Steve chose not to tell the doctor about the broken table.)

''Who are you so angry with, Steve?'' Mark shot back.

''You're joking, right? What Michael did - it's unforgivable.''

''Yes, it is. And he's paying for it with the rest of his life...and with his freedom. Meanwhile, your anger is more out of control every time I see you. Sure, you can hide it when you're around your wife - which in itself isn't healthy - but it's always there, right below the surface where it makes you do things like _this_. Which in essence means Michael wins, after all. I know that's not what you want. But I also think you have more anger than that. You're angry with Jaime -''

''That's ridiculous!'' Steve insisted.

''Is it?'' Mark knew he had to get that anger - _**all **_of it - out in the open to be dealt with once and for all. ''She kissed Michael, she initiated contact between them. Maybe she -''

''Don't say it, Doc! This isn't her fault! None of it - do you hear me? But yeah...I do wish that'd never happened,'' Steve admitted, very softly. ''It didn't give Michael the right to do what he did, though!''

''Of course not, but it adds to the anger that's been building inside you...doesn't it? Adds fuel to the fire?''

''Maybe...I guess so. I mean, we dealt with it; you _made _us deal with it. And we forgave each other...because I was wrong for what I did, for how I dealt with it, too.''

''Kind of like now?'' Mark prompted.

''Well...yeah.''

''So we need to find you some other, more productive and less harmful outlets for your anger. And we will. But you're not done yet. You're angry at someone else, too.''

''Kingsley, of course,'' Steve agreed. ''The maniac who started it all.''

''I'm not talking about Kingsley, although there's another one for your tally. Who else are you angry with, Steve?''

''That about covers it, Doc.''

''I don't think so.'' Mark was going to _make _him say it! ''There's someone else who you're finding it nearly impossible to forgive. Someone a lot closer to home, and it's what's really eating away at you inside.''

''Doc, I...''

''You know where I'm going with this - don't you?''

''Yeah. And...you're right,'' Steve told him.

''Then I want you to say it. Put it on the table and let's deal with it, instead of trying to numb it - because no amount of booze is going to make it go away, but admitting it just might.''

''Alright. Okay. You win, Doc. I'm mad - damn mad - at _myself_! There. Are you happy now?''

''And tell me why.''

''Because...I couldn't help her...when she needed me the most. Not with Kingsley...and not with Michael. They both hurt her...so badly...and there was nothing I could do to help.''

''The key words there are '**_nothing you could do_**','' Mark told him quietly. ''Both situations were specifically engineered that way, to ensure there was nothing you could do. So blaming yourself for something that was planned that way and over which you had no control -''

''Doesn't make much sense, does it Doc?'' Steve realized.

''So I think it's time to forgive yourself and put that voice inside that tells you Jaime's pain is your fault to rest - once and for all.''

''Just tell me how...''

''We won't accomplish it all today, but an excellent start would be to tell Jaime exactly what you told me, word for word. Does she normally take this long in the tub?''

''Sometimes she'll stay in there for an hour, running more hot water when it cools off, just to relax. But...I haven't heard more water running. I'll check on her.'' Steve got up, swayed slightly but caught himself and then headed for the bathroom. The door was open - but the bedroom door was closed. He knocked softly. ''Jaime...?'' There was no answer. When he turned the knob, he found she'd locked it...but it still turned easily with a bionic flick of the wrist.

There was a piece of paper on the bed - a letter.

_Dear Steve,  
I heard what you said and I understand how you feel. The uncertainty of possibly never knowing who this baby's father is, it's just too much for you to accept. While I do understand, I can't let this baby be brought up that way, with a father in the house who doesn't quite accept her because he's never really __sure__ who she is. When I get to wherever I'm going, I'll send word that I'm alright. This is the best thing for all three of us.  
I love you,  
Jaime_

The screen and pane had been removed from the bedroom window...and _Jaime was gone_.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The last thing Oscar expected while working late (as usual) was for Jaime to show up in his office. He'd seen her only hours before, for her debriefing, and she'd been looking forward to going home and spending time with Steve. They were just beginning to plan how to turn the spare bedroom into a nursery and she'd been so excited. Now, instead of being at home in her husband's arms and happily planning their future, she was here - and her mood had done a total 180.

''I need your help,'' Jaime told him calmly when he looked up and saw her standing there.

Oscar set the folder in his hand to the side, removed his glasses and smiled. ''What can I do for you, Babe?''

''I need an OSI apartment, and preferably tonight. I need to move in tonight, please.''

His smile disappeared and his worry lines deepened. ''Sit down, Jaime,'' he requested.

''Can you help me...or not?'' she asked, still calm but clearly with an agenda she was trying to meet.

''I'll always do anything I can to help you; you know that. Do you need Rudy - or Mark Conrad?'' Oscar reached for the phone.

''No; I'm fine. And I'd imagine Mark knows by now. I just need a place to stay. If it's a problem, I can stay in a hotel until something becomes available -''

''It shouldn't be a problem,'' Oscar assured her. ''How long will you need it for? When are the painters coming?''

''Painters?''

He had hoped she was leaving the house temporarily while the nursery-to-be was painted. Obviously, that wasn't the case. ''If not painters, can I ask -?''

''I'd rather you didn't. At least...not right now.'' She was an operative and was using those skills to mask her feelings but if she let even a little of what had happened spill, the floodgates would open...and break her resolve. She was doing the right thing - for herself, for the baby...and for Steve. Having her around was a constant reminder of everything they'd both been through and he just kept getting angrier. With so much anger inside him, Jaime knew he'd never be able to accept a child he wasn't sure belonged to him...when the other possibility was that she'd been fathered...in the way she might have been. Yes, it was best for all three of them that she do this - and do it _now_- so she had to remain detached, as cool as an operative on assignment. ''In fact,'' she told Oscar, ''I'd really rather you not tell Steve where you place me; not for the time being.''

''Oh?'' Oscar's brow rose in surprise, then his features fell as it hit him. ''Oh...'' he said, more quietly.

''Yeah,'' Jaime confirmed. ''So can you get me into a place tonight?''

* * *

Oscar had ceased his work for the evening and sat waiting with her while arrangements were being made (possibly in the hope of finding out what had happened) but they talked very little. Jaime reflected now that it was really kind of him not to press the issue. He had waited while she jotted a quick note to Steve, promised her he'd have an OSI courier deliver it immediately, then kissed her cheek and gave her a set of directions. Because of the seriousness of her demeanor and her request for ultimate privacy, he was sending her to an unused OSI safe house, rather than the OSI-sponsored apartments (that would be the first place Steve might look for her). She could stay there for as long as she needed to.

Jaime was pleasantly surprised; Oscar had really come through for her. It was more of a place than she'd expected, especially on such short notice. The bedroom had a large closet, a dresser and a night table - plenty of storage for all of her things, whenever she was able to get them. For now, she had the essentials and would unpack as soon as she'd had a look around. The bed was full-sized (slightly larger than a twin) and would be perfect for her needs, once her belly started to blow up 'like a house'. There was a charming patchwork quilt on top of good cotton sheets and several fluffy-looking pillows.

The kitchen was small but clean and serviceable, with a refrigerator that had been miraculously filled with food (juice and milk included, of course) on just over an hour's notice. The living room was small but cozy and the furniture quite comfortable. Jaime's every need and expectation had been met...and exceeded. She fixed herself a mug of cocoa, got her book from her purse and settled into a wing back chair with her feet up on an ottoman. Jaime was determined to feel at home here - because now this was _home_.

* * *

Mark was still with him - and Steve had managed to sober up considerably - when the courier knocked at the door. OSI couriers were trained in discretion, but this one truly had no details to give, even if he'd wanted to. He'd been handed a sealed note at OSI-Los Angeles and told to deliver it; that was all he knew. Steve thanked him and sat back down in the easy chair before opening the envelope with nervous hands.

_I'm okay. I'm home now. Please don't try to find me. This is best for all three of us. _was all the note said.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Oscar sat at his desk wondering - and _worrying_. From what Jaime had said, it sounded like Mark was with Steve, so this was good. Should he have helped Jaime - or insisted she go home to her husband, to try and talk things through? Oscar knew how impulsive she could be but she'd seemed level headed and calm in his office. She was also very _stubborn_ and while he didn't know much about pregnancy, Oscar guessed these traits were likely amplified in her now - to the 'nth' degree. She'd stated her intention to go to a hotel and he simply couldn't have that - for security reasons and because he _cared_ about her. Whatever problems Jaime was trying to work her way through, she deserved to do so in comfort, privacy and _safety_.

Oscar didn't want to step into the middle of things but two of his best operatives (who also happened to be two of his dearest friends) were at loggerheads. Even without her memories of the last three years (meaning he was still somewhat of a stranger to her), Jaime had trusted him enough to come to him for help...and he would keep her secret...but maybe he could help pave the way to make it easier for her to return home when (if?) she decided to try and do so.

* * *

Steve was inconsolable. He stared at Jaime's note, unable to put it down since it was a link to her, however tenuous. He had caused this - at least in part - and he knew it. He was also cursing Michael's ability to still cause them so much pain, even from his prison cell - and Kingsley's ability to do the same...from hell. But yes, he knew he had to bear a lot of the responsibility for Jaime's leaving on his own shoulders. Things _had _been different since they'd returned from the island - and it was mostly his fault.

Mark knew that Steve had to start talking and not internalize his feelings (yet again) and he needed to do it _now_. ''Alright,'' he began, ''let's deal with this. What are your thoughts?''

''My thoughts?'' Steve said quietly. ''I have to find her!''

''You can't go out with alcohol still in your system. Even if you're not feeling it right now, you can't drive in this condition.''

''Then...can you find her, Doc? Make sure she's okay?''

''I probably can,'' Mark allowed. ''And I will. But right now I'm here and I'm concerned about _you_. It sounds like Jaime's found herself some help - or at least a safe place to be - so let's concentrate on getting you ready to deal with this.''

''She couldn't have gone very far, if she's already sent a note...unless she's only on her way and sent this now to throw me off...''

''Steve - you're _not _going out looking for her; not tonight. I can't allow it,'' Mark insisted. The doorbell rang and Mark got up to answer it. He and Oscar nodded to each other and Oscar seated himself in the living room.

He eyed Steve carefully, considering the right way to play his hand. His operative had clearly been drinking again; Oscar could smell it. Technically, he should suspend him; he'd already been warned more than once. But his _friend _was hurting - and for Oscar, that took precedence. At the same time, he couldn't betray Jaime's confidence in him; he had to keep her visit (and his help) to himself...at least for now. ''I came to see Jaime,'' he began, ''to tie up some loose ends. Is she sleeping?''

''She's...not here, Oscar,'' Steve explained miserably. ''Jaime left me...''

''She left you?'' Oscar was trying to be gentle and yet he had to lay it on the line. ''Anything to do with the gin on your breath? I can smell it all the way over here.''

''You're probably smelling the fireplace. Don't ask,'' Steve told him.

''Alright; I won't. You do realize I should suspend you, though - but I'm guessing you're already seeing consequences -''

''_She left me_, Oscar! Whatever you do to me now...it doesn't matter. But...can you help Mark find her - and make sure she's alright? Maybe send Rudy and Doc Hammond to check on her?''

''First thing in the morning, Pal; I promise. I'd be willing to bet that after a good night's sleep and some time to think, Jaime will be back to talk things over, though. _She loves you_. My guess is that things will look a lot different in the morning, once you've sobered up.''

''I just hope that 'different' doesn't mean 'worse','' Steve said, very quietly...still staring at Jaime's note.

* * *

Jaime unpacked the things she'd brought with her - a few changes of clothing, toiletries, etc. - then changed into pajamas. She'd taken one of Steve's pajama tops because it was comfortable and allowed her to feel a small connection to her husband. As she slipped into bed, she placed her left hand protectively on her belly once again - and felt the first early flutterings of the life inside her.

''We'll be okay,'' she assured her daughter. (Jaime was positive it was a girl.) ''Everything's gonna be okay.''


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Oscar didn't suspend his operative...and he didn't chew out his friend. He stayed long enough to ensure that Steve was in good hands with Mark, then returned briefly to his office to arrange medical care for Jaime in the morning. Her trio of doctors were given directions to the safe house and sworn to secrecy. It was a difficult road to tread, helping both Jaime and Steve simultaneously and yet separately - but they were worth it.

Mark stayed with Steve for several hours after Oscar had gone, forcing Steve to release some of his pain and anger into the open and then listening empathetically as he tried to work his way through it. It would be a lengthy process, not something Mark could help him overcome in one night, but they'd made an excellent start...or so he thought.

As soon as Mark was gone and he was _alone_ for the night, Steve headed for the liquor cabinet and the bottle of brandy. Jaime was _gone_ and he faced lying down in that big bed by himself. But even with his senses completely dulled again (less than an hour later), he found he couldn't do it. Jaime's side of the bed was _empty_...and he couldn't bear to lie next to the spot where she should be. He took one more snifter of brandy with him and went to try for some sleep in the spare bedroom instead.

* * *

Jaime fixed herself a light breakfast of eggs, toast and orange juice and got dressed. Oscar had called to let her know Rudy and Doctors Corinth and Hammond were on their way - and they arrived exactly on schedule. They found their patient looking clear-eyed and calm (outwardly, anyway) and each in turn checked her over. She submitted patiently to all of their exams and then they all sat down for coffee together.

''Do you think you ought to go home - at least for a visit - and try talking with Steve about this?'' Rudy suggested. (As the closest one to Jaime - and to Steve - he simply had to try.)

''I can't, Rudy! He'd try to talk me out of this...maybe even _make _me stay there -''

''He'd never hurt you, Honey,'' Rudy said gently.

''Oh, I know that. But he could block the door or do any number of things...''

''Steve loves you,'' Rudy persisted.

''I...love him too. I do! But...things are getting worse. He's so _mad_- all the time! He thinks I can't see it, but I do. And...it's at me, Rudy! At least...part of it is. I know he's mad at Michael too. So am I! But after what I heard yesterday...I know he can't accept not knowing he's this baby's father...that she might be Michael's. So I'm doing what's best for all three of us, because I won't let this baby be raised that way. I can't!''

''Honey...did Steve actually say that?''

''Well...no,'' Jaime admitted. ''But -''

''What _did _he say?'' Rudy asked quietly (trying to make Jaime see the other side of the coin).

''I...really don't wanna talk about that. Not right now.'' Tears began forming in Jaime's eyes but she brushed them away determinedly. ''I have to do this! I need to do what I feel is right...and _this _is right.''

Rudy patted her hand. ''I hope so, Honey - for your sake...and for Steve's. I'm not taking sides here but I hope you know how very much Steve loves you...and let that guide at least part of your decision.''

''I've already made my decision.''

* * *

Rudy's next stop for the day was to see Steve. ''You look like hell twice warmed over,'' he noted bluntly. (Steve was clearly in the throes of a major hangover, to go with his major heartache.)

''I could sure use some good news, if you've got some,'' Steve pleaded.

''Well,'' Rudy began thoughtfully, ''I saw your wife this morning.''

''You...saw her? How is she? _Where _is she?''

''I can't give you the 'where'; I'm sorry. But I can tell you that we all gave her the 'once over' and physically Jaime and the baby are fine.''

''Please, Rudy...I just wanna talk to her...and tell her I love her.''

''She knows that. And I think she'll contact you when she's ready...but she's not ready yet.''

''But she's...okay?'' Steve asked.

Rudy nodded. He refused to take sides, one way or the other - but it was impossible not to feel at least some sympathy toward Steve, who was missing his wife so terribly...and so suddenly.

* * *

Back in his office (after not nearly enough sleep, which was normal for him), Oscar faced a dilemma. The files they'd received from Donald Harris indicated a much deeper problem than first suspected. The law firm was indeed selling government secrets - but it seemed a terror cell had already used the purchased secrets to begin stockpiling weapons at an installation hidden deep in the Sierras. Their ultimate goal was unclear...but Oscar knew they had to be stopped. _Immediately_. One operative alone wasn't enough to accomplish this feat; he needed two...his _best _two. He needed Jaime for her listening capabilities - but she'd been forbidden to use more than the most basic functions of her bionics...so he also needed Steve. Would they be able to function as a unified team - to do whatever might be required to bring down this group that had holed up in the mountains - when they weren't even speaking to each other?


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The briefing in Oscar's office had been tense, to say the least. Jaime stared straight ahead, listening to every word Oscar said and forcing herself not to look at Steve. She could feel his eyes on her but she hoped that her own demeanor would let him know that she was here for business - to work, because Oscar had called her - and not for any other reason. She would attend to the task they were being assigned and, in fact, was excited to do so...to be given another chance to prove herself and gain another boost to her confidence and to Oscar's confidence in her abilities.

Together (but silently), she and Steve boarded the chopper that would take them to within a few miles of the terror group's installation, just outside of what might be their radar capabilities and slightly around the mountain from their line of sight. Jaime and Steve would have to walk the last couple of miles but the doctors had assured Oscar that it was no problem for Jaime to do so, since they were going straight across and not climbing any steep inclines (nor would they have to run, although short bursts of running wouldn't harm her, either). It would be a 40 - 45 minute flight on the CH-47 to reach their destination. Jaime intended to use all of that time to formulate a solid plan while Steve hoped to develop their plan a little more quickly and spend at least part of that time on...other things.

''Are you...alright?'' Steve ventured, once they were comfortable and the chopper was in the air.

''We'll need to get as close to their base as possible while still maintaining ground cover,'' Jaime told him (ignoring his question).

''Jaime -''

''Then I can listen for anything that'll help you get in and out more quickly. And I guess I'll have to wait for you there. How do you think you'll approach, if I can't hear anything useful?''

''Sweetheart, listen...please?''

''Look,'' Jaime sighed, ''I'm not 'Sweetheart' here. Not now. We need to work together to get this done - and we will, or I will, anyway - but when it's over, you need to know that I'm going home.''

''Jaime, that's wonderful! We can talk then, and I'm sure we can -''

''My new home, Steve. I'm sorry but that's how it's gonna be. Now, do you wanna talk about this mission or are you just planning to 'wing it' when we get there?''

''I've always been pretty damn good at winging it.''

Jaime closed her eyes. ''Then please wake me when the chopper lands.''

* * *

Oscar sat in his office wondering if he'd done the right thing. Normally, he was _never_ one to second guess himself...but could Jaime and Steve manage to pull off working as a united team, when they were in actuality anything _but _united? They hadn't spoken a word to each other during his briefing. He couldn't have sent Jaime in alone. If she weren't pregnant, she might've handled it easily on her own, but now they would need to work together, combining the talents they were each able to offer. It was the only way to get this done; like it or not, Oscar had no other choice but to send them together. Still, if they approached their assignment with any degree of hesitation, it could end up getting both of them killed.

* * *

Steve couldn't take his eyes off of his wife as she leaned back with her eyes closed. He guessed (correctly) that she wasn't really sleeping but had found an effective way to shut him out, knowing he wouldn't dare interfere when she claimed to need rest now. He longed to slide over beside her, wrap her in both of his arms and kiss away the awful chasm between them. He almost did just that, but as he shifted positions Jaime opened her eyes very briefly and gave him a steady stare that stopped him cold, before closing her eyes once again. In a way, she was right; it wasn't the time or place...but if she planned to return to...Steve had no idea where...when the mission was ended...his heart broke at the thought of having her walk away from him all over again.

The chopper soon landed in the assigned area and Jaime and Steve began their trek across the side of the mountain toward the enemy installation. ''Are you sure you're up to this?'' Steve asked. When he was rewarded by a pair of arched eyebrows and a thoroughly reproachful look, he shot back ''I'm allowed to ask that, you know. As _your partner _here, if you aren't physically capable, I have every right to know that!'' His words came out sounding harsher than he'd intended but he meant every one of them.

''I'm fine,'' Jaime snapped. ''If I wasn't, then as _your partner_, I'd tell you. Do NOT treat me like I'm about to crack into a million pieces. I'm not that fragile - and you know it. So let me do my job and concentrate on doing yours, clear?''

It wasn't a promising start to a dangerous mission...


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jaime and Steve reached an area where they could see the foliage beginning to thin out in front of them and Steve held out a protective arm. ''This is where we stop,'' he announced.

Jaime bit back on the urge to snap that she could see that perfectly well on her own and simply stood her ground, preparing to go ahead with her part of the assignment. She worried that they didn't have a more concrete plan between them, but Steve had expressed his desire to 'wing it' - and truthfully, he was quite good at doing exactly that. She would trust him and his abilities the way she hoped he still trusted her.

Steve watched Jaime carefully as she began tuning in to what might be happening just beyond the thinning foliage. They had no map of this installation or its buildings - no Intel of any kind, really - and he would be going in solely on whatever information she could gather for him.

''They're talking about someone named _Rudolpho_,'' Jaime relayed. ''Sounds like he's in the main building...and they're heading toward it now.'' She listened for a few more moments. ''About 12 footsteps from where they started and then a door. I...I'm not sure where they started but I think it was a guard shack because that door sounded lighter than a regular building. So about 12 steps from the guard shack to wherever this Rudolpho is. And he sounds important; they're taking some kind of a report to him. 'Directly to him, like he wants it' is how they put it. And they're going down a hallway...sounds like a long one, so it's gotta be a big building. Harder to hear now...so this must be the far side of their complex, and deep into the building...but I'll do my best...''

Jaime listened even more closely. Her heart was beating faster - and she felt the baby flutter in response. ''Oh! They're talking about what happened with Donald! I can't hear all of it, but a new voice - must be this 'Rudolpho' is saying something about speeding it up and moving it out. Those are the words he used. Lots of 'Yes Sirs' and 'I'll take care of it' - so yeah, sounds like he's the boss.'' She listened a bit more. ''I hear boot steps now too...so he's leaving the building. They all are.''

Steve watched his wife in amazement. He would decide based on what she said and what he found when he got down there whether to try and apprehend the leader - to cut the head off the snake and let the body die - or simply blow the place up...if he could find the munitions.

Then Jaime provided that, too. ''They're going into some sort of thin metal building now. I heard the walls clang like tin when they went in. They're looking over a shipment. Sounds like we came at the right time!'' she exulted. She concentrated some more. ''Now the bootsteps are going back into the big building and the others...I can't tell. But if you want Rudolpho, that's where you'll find him.''

Steve could have kissed her! This was better info than he'd dared hope for. ''Sweet...I mean _partner_, you're amazing. My turn now.'' He gave her a meaningful glance - one that also said _I love you_, whether Jaime liked it or not - and then took off at a careful bionic jog toward the installation.

It was very small, and almost exactly the way Jaime had been able to describe it, simply by listening. There was a guard shack at the front gate of a fence that went all the way around. (About 15 feet high, with barbed wire rolled around the top; not a problem.) Inside, there was a large building, two smaller satellite buildings and what looked like a parking garage...and then a large metal shed. With what Jaime had told him, he could take a grenade from the supply pack on his belt and end this quickly - right now - but he decided to go after their leader instead.

Steve made his way around toward the back section of fence and then jumped it easily. (Up where she remained well hidden, Jaime heard him hit the ground with a safe - and thus satisfying - soft _plunk_.) He made his way toward the large building, using the smaller buildings as his cover, then bypassed the main entrance and ran around the side, where he smashed out a window as a distraction before running to the back, breaking another window and then preparing to step inside.

Jaime heard all of this from her hiding spot...and smiled. He was almost there. But suddenly..._something was wrong_! She heard the guards leave the shack but instead of running in the front entrance (toward where Steve had provided a distraction), they were running straight for Steve! More people were flooding out of other buildings, running toward him too! She reached for her datacom, to warn him - but realized the sound of the transmission would zero the guards in to Steve's location. She had to stifle a cry of fear when there was nothing she could do but wait...and listen. From where she was hidden, even if she stepped forward into the less dense foliage, she wouldn't have been able to see anything.

Then...so many sounds, all at once! Jaime heard a thud, another _plunk_...too many sounds to make out and...

_**EXPLOSION**_**!**

She might not have been able to see the complex...but she could clearly see the resulting fireball, rising up above the trees. She knew the chopper pilot would have seen what she saw (from further away, of course) and would already know they needed help...but she radioed for him anyhow and then leaned back against a tree...and began to cry. She'd never felt so helpless. She couldn't very well run down straight into a fire but...

_Where was Steve?!_

The sound of the chopper drowned out everything else...and she didn't hear anyone approach. ''I'm...not dead,'' the voice she wanted most to hear told her! Jaime looked up - and there he was! He looked a lot worse for wear, with soot covering much of his body and an angry-looking gash in his left arm...but he was smiling that wonderful lop-sided smile as he motioned toward the chopper. ''How 'bout we get the hell outta here...partner?'' he suggested.

Jaime couldn't possibly have agreed more! Once they were aboard and in the air, she grabbed the first aid box. ''Take off your shirt,'' she told Steve, then she began cleaning the soot from the gash in his arm, as gently as she could. ''What happened?'' she asked, trying to distract him from what she was doing (and because she wanted to _know_).

''Went bad,'' he said simply. ''I took the first two down but more kept coming - so I jumped the fence and threw a grenade at the shack. Turned and ran for a second...then rolled. I guess...I caught my arm on the barbed wire.''

''I guess you did,'' Jaime agreed. She couldn't stop herself from embracing him in relief that he'd survived...before pulling back and tending to his arm. When it was wrapped in a gauze bandage that covered most of his bicep, they radioed Oscar together to let him know what had happened. The munitions were not recovered...but the terror group no longer had their hands on them either. In fact, there no longer appeared to be a 'group' at all; in a flyover that was only as close as the pilot dared to get, there appeared to be no survivors. Not the way Steve had planned for it to go (and definitely not the way Jaime would have liked) but it was over. Mission accomplished. They put down the radio and leaned back against the chopper walls and their cushions...and looked questioningly at each other.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

''Jaime, I...'' Steve began haltingly.

''You should rest now,'' she told him in a gentle voice.

''I will. Just...listen for a minute or two...please?'' She didn't stop him, so Steve went on. ''I'm really sorry for what you overheard. It was a helluva way to find out about the lab work. But I'm not sure where you got a notion that I love this baby - _our baby_ - any less. I love you - _both of you_- with all my heart.''

''Steve, I...I love you too. You know that. But...this isn't really the place to be talking about this. And your arm!'' Blood was already seeping through the gauze. Jaime moved quickly back to his side to apply pressure.

''If we don't talk now,'' Steve said, ''then when? You've already said - ouch, that hurts! - you've already said you're not coming home with me. And I don't know where you're staying or how to reach you. So for all I know, this is my only shot at this.''

''It's not,'' Jaime promised. ''But on one condition.'' She hated to see him wince, despised causing him pain, but increased the pressure on his arm because she had to.

''Name it,'' he prompted. (In truth, he'd have made a bionic leap to re-hang the moon and stars - or try to - if she'd told him that was what it would take.)

''Stop talking about this now - and _rest_. And I promise in a few days, when we've both had time to think things through, we'll talk. Maybe in Mark's office, maybe...somewhere else.'' Jaime looked up into Steve's eyes, her face quite close to his because she was still applying pressure to his arm - and she met his gaze straight-on, with a smile and without looking away. ''But we _will _talk. I promise. And...I do love you.''

''Then why...?''

''It's the anger I don't love. And this new outlet you seem to have found for it. That makes me think...'' Jaime stopped herself. ''But...a deal's a deal, Austin - take it or leave it.''

''I'll take it,'' he told her with a slight smile before closing his eyes to rest (as ordered; a part of their 'deal'). ''And...I love you too.''

* * *

Jaime sat in the waiting room with Mark while Rudy gave Steve's arm a _professional _cleaning and tending to. At Steve's insistence, she'd been checked out (and 'green-lighted') by the doctors first, before he finally bared his arm for Rudy. Mark was eying Jaime and taking in every detail of her demeanor. She was quiet - subdued, even - and not filled with her usual post-mission exuberance. Oscar had alerted him that there'd been an explosion - a potential trigger for her - but Jaime's eyes were clear and she was fully 'present'.

''Did something happen that you'd like to tell me about?'' he asked gently. ''Did the two of you get a chance to talk?''

''We were working,'' Jaime replied. (She chose to keep the little they had said to each other to herself...for now.) ''But I promised him we'd talk in a few days. I just...I need a little more time to think first.''

''About...?''

''Everything. Mark, when I do talk with him...will you be there? Please? I think we're both gonna need some help.''

''I'll help you in any way I can,'' he told her.

''Steve has so much anger in him now - anger he won't let me anywhere near,'' Jaime said softly. ''You know what might really help the most? A session like the one we had here in the hospital...where you made us put everything - _everything_- out in the open and emotionally gutted us like a couple of fish. It hurt like hell...but it helped too. A lot.''

''I don't know if I'd put it quite like that,'' Mark chuckled. (She definitely had a vivid way with words!) ''And maybe that _would _help...but we can't do it. Not now; not in your -''

''Please don't say _in my condition_!''

''It's the truth, Jaime. We have to be realistic here - and _safe_. When you and Steve were 'emotionally gutted like fish', as you so eloquently put it, it was raw, emotional and intense. I won't put you through that sort of wringer now that you're pregnant; like it or not, it's just too much. But I do have another suggestion that could be equally as helpful.''

''What's that?''

''Talk. Just plain, good old-fashioned talk...with _honesty_. I'll help you - but I don't want to wait a few days to do it. Tomorrow morning, at the house.''  
(He'd also have to get the okay from Steve, of course, but Mark was certain Steve would agree.)

''Day after tomorrow - and in your office,'' Jaime negotiated (still pressing for extra time and a more neutral territory).

''Tomorrow. At the house - _your _house - and Steve's. 10:00am. You either want to save your marriage...or you don't.''

''I'll be there,'' Jaime promised.

* * *

''She's late,'' Steve noted then next morning. ''She's not coming.''

''It's two minutes after 10,'' Mark noted. ''She'll be here.'' At 10:10, he too began to worry...but he kept it from Steve, who was already pacing the floor nervously. Finally, at 10:15, Jaime walked through the door, her arms filled with white take-out boxes.

''I'm really sorry I'm late,'' she told them. ''I knew you probably hadn't eaten, since I didn't hear the fire trucks - so I brought breakfast.''


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Over eggs, pancakes, sausage and coffee (Steve was able to at least make that), Mark watched Jaime and Steve 'circle' each other with their eyes, seeking answers to their questions...and acceptance of their faults. He hoped they were ready to give each other the honesty they not only sought but needed desperately. Mark would do everything he could '' but the outcome was really up to them. When the food was gone and they'd lingered just a bit over coffee, the trio moved into the living room. Finally, it was _time_. Steve chose his easy chair while Jaime curled up on the sofa. Mark chose the rocker where he could face both of them and (sensing they were both too nervous to be the first to talk), he parted the waters for them.

''Hell of a honeymoon for you,'' he noted softly. Jaime and Steve both stared down at the floor, suddenly unable to find the right words or even to look at each other. They both knew the next few minutes were _pivotal_; their entire future was in the balance...and they were terrified.

Steve took a deep breath...and then another. It still wasn't easy for him to talk about his feelings but he knew that _this was __**it**_...possibly his only chance to put the pieces back together. Finally, he found his courage and dove in. ''Jaime...'' he began (in a voice nearly choked with emotion), ''I don't want to lose you. Please tell me what you need from me..tell me how to fix this...and I'll do anything. Please...?''

Jaime looked up at him with tears already forming in her eyes. Their gazes met...and held. ''I didn't leave because of the test results,'' she began. ''I left because...I was afraid.''

''Of me?'' Steve asked.

''No...not...not exactly. But of your anger. I don't know...I mean, you won't tell me...what's doing this to you. So I have to assume...that it's me. Or this baby...or both...''

''Sweetheart, of course not -''

''Let her finish, Steve,'' Mark told him quietly.

''When I came home,'' Jaime went on, her voice shaking with every word, ''and I saw you in that chair...passed out. I...I'd never seen you like that before. But from the way everything was...spilled...and broken...I could tell it wasn't your first time.''

''You're right '' and I'm sorry,'' Steve replied.

''It...you..._scared _me, Steve! And then, when I came out of the bathroom and heard what you said...about the lab tests...it...I just...'' Jaime struggled to find words for what she needed to say. ''It seemed like, with what I'd just seen '' you, drunk and passed out '' that this baby was something you just couldn't deal with. Or that...maybe...you were so furious with me that you couldn't even talk to me about it. And I won't live that way. I can't...let this baby be brought into the world that way. So...I left. But...I love you, Steve.''

''I love you too...so much,'' Steve told her. ''Where do we go...from here?''

''I want _all_of the liquor out of the house...''

Steve nodded. ''Already took care of that with Mark before you got here. And I'm not angry with you...that's not it at all.''

''_Honesty_, Steve,'' Mark reminded him softly. ''Total honesty.''

''Alright,'' Steve allowed. ''Do I wish you hadn't kissed Michael '' and held him like that '' in the hospital? Yeah; of course I do. But...the anger you've been sensing...it isn't because of that. We've talked that through and let go of it. I'm angry because...I _hate_ what happened to you! I hate Michael '' and Kingsley '' for what they did! Nothing gave them the right to hurt you...to hurt _us _that way...and...'' (Finally, he forced himself to say it.) ''...and I hate myself for not being able to stop it '' for not being able to help you!''

Mark nodded at Steve with a slight smile, knowing how hard that had been for him.

''There was nothing you could've done '' any of those times!'' Jaime told her husband. ''I was helpless...but you were helpless too. And...they wanted it that way. Because it hurt us both...even more. Because it made them...happy.''

''Steve, you're going to be angry with Michael '' and with Kingsley '' for probably a long time,'' Mark explained. ''But there are ways of dealing with that where you aren't endangering yourself '' or your relationship. You can go for a run. You could get yourself a punching bag '' although I'd advise using your left hand there so you don't 'dust' it the first time you hit it.'' (This managed to get a chuckle from both Austins.) ''You could even try something that will seem foreign at first but that I promise will get easier, the more you do it: you can talk it out with your wife. Jaime is stronger than you think she is, and while I know you're afraid of hurting her by talking about Michael, you hurt her more when you hold it inside because then she has no idea what's going on with you. And that can have disastrous consequences.''

''Yeah,'' Steve agreed. ''I found that out the hard way. Jaime, I...I'm sorry. I'll try to do better. When I act like that, just hit me upside my head. Or better yet, slug my arm like you're so good at. But please...will you come home where you belong? I..._I need you, Sweetheart_...and I need to watch you gradually get as big as a house '' with _our baby_.''

''Steve, I...of course, I wanna come home. And I will...yes! But...I think I'll keep the other place open for now, with that suitcase of stuff over there. Because if I see you take another drink...if things go scary-bad like that...I have to protect our baby. But if I see you acting like a 'strong, silent, macho jerk'...yeah, I'll give you a good slug. Just as a reminder.''

It was everything Steve could have dared to hope for...and more. Jaime had one gift to give him, right at that moment. ''Steve...'' she said, her eyes lighting up, ''come over here '' please?'' When he sat down next to her (unsure of what it was she wanted), Jaime reached for his hand and placed it on her stomach. Now he, too, could feel the fluttering of the baby inside her...for the very first time.

* * *

Things weren't idyllic at first, but Jaime and Steve both worked at it with determination...and with love. Gradually, Steve learned to express himself at least a little better...and yet still occasionally earned himself a slug on the arm. After a few weeks, Jaime retrieved her things from the safe house and let Oscar know she didn't need it any longer. She worked a few more missions, some by herself and some with her husband, and then the time came (about a month and a half later) when her belly could no longer be hidden by loose jackets or tunics and she had to admit that her center of gravity was 'off'. For Jaime, no matter how much being an operative might've been in her blood, it was time to stop working (at least for now). Besides, they had a new arrival to begin preparing for!


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jaime thudded onto the sofa. At seven months pregnant, even the softest plop became a _thud_. ''You sure you're not carrying twins?'' Steve teased.

''Haha - you're _so _funny, Austin,'' she grumbled. ''What time do the painters get here?''

''Another hour - and then our check-in at the hotel is in an hour and a half.'' They'd be spending three days and two nights in a luxury hotel (because, for them, what other kind was there) while the nursery-to-be was finally painted...and to let the paint fumes dissipate before they returned home. After much discussion, they'd chosen a neutral (but lovely) shade of the lightest lemon yellow for the walls and white for the moldings and trim, so Steve could put up the Disney appliques they'd chosen all along the upper trim. ''All packed?'' he asked.

''I think so.'' Jaime flashed him a mischievous grin. ''Do I really need a lot of clothes?''

To Steve, she was every bit as desirable as ever - and the doctors assured them both that such activity was okay...and even good for them. ''Nope. Except something to throw on when Room Service is at the door. And...your swimsuit. Got that?''

''The one that makes me look like a beached whale? Yeah; it's packed.''

Steve leaned down and kissed the tip of Jaime's nose, her cheek and finally her lips. ''You're cute when you're grumpy,'' he told her.

''Yeah, well I'll be a real laugh riot when I'm in labor then,'' she snapped...just before she giggled. Her emotions were bouncing around like a Super Ball, but she was getting used to it...and it seemed to amuse Steve.

''Mark will let the painters in and make sure they know what they're doing, so we could leave now and stop for lunch on the way,'' Steve suggested.

''I feel like making something,'' Jaime told him, hefting herself up (with a hand from her husband) and heading into the kitchen. They had just finished polishing off the turkey sandwiches with lettuce, provolone, mayo and a dash of hot sauce when the doorbell rang.

Steve looked at his watch. ''Mark's early,'' he noted. Except it wasn't Mark. ''Oscar? Sorry, whatever it is, no can do,'' Steve said firmly. ''We have hotel reservations.''

''Jaime, great to see you, Babe,'' Oscar exulted, stepping inside. ''How _are _you?''

''She's grumpy,'' Steve chuckled.

''I am _not _grumpy! But I will be, if you're sending Steve on assignment!''

''Babe, I need to talk to your husband, just for a few minutes, please,'' Oscar requested.

''No,'' Jaime told him. ''The answer is no.''

''Sweetheart,'' Steve began gently, ''why don't you check my suitcase and make sure I didn't forget anything?'' (Jaime's bionics - including her ear - had been tuned down to 'normal' strength a few days earlier, for the last portion of her pregnancy. The doctors had felt it was best if she didn't have bionic strength legs and an arm while she was in labor, so Doctor Hammond wouldn't get kicked in the head and Steve - if he decided to be in the delivery room - wouldn't get slugged into oblivion. The ear was tuned down at the same time simply for the convenience of the doctors being able to speak to her husband without Jaime eavesdropping on them.)

Jaime threw them her very best pout...but turned and went into the bedroom, obediently closing the door. She pressed her ear to the wall adjacent to the hallway but could hear nothing. Jaime sighed in frustration. She knew his work with the OSI was in Steve's blood far more even than it was in hers. If Oscar was wanting to send him somewhere, her husband would have a difficult time saying no.

Out in the living room, Steve did exactly that...at least at first. ''Oscar, no. We need this time together. Find someone else. Please? We have reservations -''

''I've already canceled them,'' Oscar said quietly.

''You had no right to do that! Besides, Jaime can't be here while the nursery's painted.''

''And she won't; neither will you.''

''Now wait just a minute! Trying to send me off is one thing, but giving my wife - who is seven months pregnant, if you hadn't noticed - an assignment is just -''

''It's not an assignment, Pal. You'd better sit down,'' Oscar told him.

''I'm just fine where I am. And I'm listening..._for now_.''

''I'm sending you both to a Safe House. A nice one, secluded, peaceful. But a Safe House nonetheless. And I need you both to stay there until further notice.''

Steve sank into a chair. ''Tell me the rest.''

''The munitions cell you blew up...Abraham Rudolpho survived the blast,'' Oscar said grimly.

''Oh, no.''

''And he's resurfaced, out for revenge. So you see the need for me to send you away.''

''But Jaime...she needs regular check-ups. She's a high-risk pregnancy, with her bionics - and she's been seeing Hammond and Rudy twice a week. We...well, sometimes we need Mark too. This isn't gonna work. I'll protect her here; I can do that!''

''No, Steve. It's too risky. He's out for blood; our sources were quite clear. Now, it's a beautiful house; the best we have. You'll both be quite comfortable there. And the doctors will rotate in and out of a house a few blocks away, where they'll be available anytime Jaime - or you - need them.''

''Sounds like you've already arranged it.''

''A car will be waiting behind the house in half an hour to take you there. All three doctors are already in place, in case Jaime has any...issues with everything that's happening.''

''We don't have a choice...do we?''

''No. But I've taken care of everything. Trust me, Pal; yes, you're going into hiding - but you're doing it in style.''

''Just one very small, tiny, miniscule problem,'' Steve thought out loud. ''How do I tell Jaime?''


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Steve knocked on the bedroom door and went on in. Jaime was sitting on the bed, still wearing her best pout. ''I hate not being able to eavesdrop!'' she told him. ''So where is Oscar sending you?''

Steve sat down next to her on the bed. ''He's sending _us_,'' he began gently.

''Huh? Fat preggo whale here; he does realize that...right?''

''Sweetheart, you need to pack a little more than expected. We're going to a Safe House,'' Steve explained. ''And we have to leave in half an hour.''

''Why...what happened? Did...did Michael escape?''

''No; nothing like that. It seems Rudolpho survived the explosion - and he's looking for us.''

Jaime let the information sink in - but it didn't quite make sense. ''You, I understand. He probably saw you when you busted out that window. But...why me? None of them ever saw me...''

''I'm not sure; but Oscar was very clear about it. And we have to get ready now. Try and look at it like a vacation, because Oscar also said he's sending us to the very best the OSI has to offer...''

* * *

For the first time since his munitions stockpile had been blown sky-high, Abe Rudolpho was smiling. His target was in sight; more accurately, _two_ targets. He was fortunate (and powerful) enough to have the resources needed to find out exactly who had destroyed what had cost him so much money and time to acquire - and those same sources were able to discover that Austin had a wife who was also with the OSI. She had likely assisted her husband in destroying his stockpile (and his base of operations) but even if she hadn't, she made a perfect (and, he had to note, _beautiful_) second target. Abe wanted Austin _dead_. And if his lovely wife died first, Austin could then be dispatched with the knowledge that it had been solely his fault. He wasn't interested in capture and interrogation (although Abe was sure that could've proved interesting too). He wanted Steve Austin and his wife _gone_ - _dead_ - immediately...if not sooner. When they stepped out their front door (to get the newspaper or head into town)...they'd be blown away.

* * *

Oscar hadn't exaggerated. Jaime and Steve's new home (for the foreseeable future) resembled a luxury villa more than it did an OSI Safe House. It had been built for the protection of the most powerful VIPs (like the Secretary or Oscar himself) if that should ever prove necessary. It was set back from the road (and thus hidden from view) by a grove of trees that lined both sides of the driveway and surrounded the house. Security alarms among those trees would alert the OSI's Chief of Security if anyone tried to approach the house. (They could also be turned off at will, should Jaime or Steve have a desire to commune with nature.)

Jaime's good old-fashioned hormonal sulk ended as soon as she stepped into the house...and for at least a few minutes, she was able to forget the extreme danger that had sent them here. There was a large wing back chair she could curl up and read in - and an easy chair for Steve - as well as a love seat _and_sofa they could be more than comfortable on together. A huge fireplace lined one wall and deep pile luxury carpet covered the floor...with a soft rug in front of the fireplace that would be perfect to eat dinner on...or for whatever else they might have in mind. The kitchen was huge and well-stocked, with the most modern appliances along two walls (forming an 'L') and a hardwood dining table on the open side.

The bedroom almost made Jaime swoon with delight. The king-sized bed sported a large, cushion-y comforter and half a dozen down pillows and there were two large oak dressers and a closet, with clothes provided in exactly their sizes and extra room to put away what they had packed and brought with them. There was also a mini-fridge on one of the nightstands, stocked with lemons, peppermint oil and ice; their every need had been anticipated and provided for.

The backyard (where it was safe to venture because of the security system in the surrounding trees) was immense, with lush green grass and a patio where Steve could grill (after Jaime lit it for him, of course).

Steve wrapped his wife in his arms and drew her in for a kiss. ''In a lot of ways, better than the hotel would've been,'' he told her - determined to make the best of the situation. While it was true they couldn't leave, they'd feel as far from _prisoners_ here as the OSI could possibly make them. He looked deep into Jaime's eyes and beyond the excitement of everything they'd just seen, Steve also spotted _fear_. ''We'll be safe here,'' he said in a gentle voice,his arms lovingly holding her close. ''All three of us are _safe_.''

* * *

By the end of the evening, Jaime had 'nested', making the house as much their home as she could manage. She'd packed a collection of framed photographs and placed some on the mantle of the hearth, some on the bedroom dressers and hung a few in the hallway. She smiled with satisfaction when the last picture was in place. The only thing that bothered her was the room adjacent to their bedroom, where Oscar had arranged for a crib to be brought in. Just how long were they expected to stay here, she wondered? While the crib was a thoughtful addition, it was also a stark reminder for Jaime that this was _not _a luxury hotel. They might have to remain here, hidden and locked away, for a very long time.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

By later that evening, Jaime was pacing like a caged animal. ''It's not fair!'' she fumed. ''We haven't done anything wrong and we're locked up like criminals!''

''There are worse places to be 'locked up','' Steve pointed up. ''And besides, the doors aren't locked here.''

''But we can't leave. You know that. And - what if I have a craving for...oh, I don't know...pickles and ice cream? We can't exactly run to the store...''

''They're both already in the kitchen waiting for you.'' Steve got up from the easy chair and put a gentle arm around his wife. ''How about if you come and sit down? Try to relax a bit...''

''Relax...how? Knowing if we leave, there's a bullet out there with our names on it!'' She shook him off and continued to pace. ''I mean, it's nice here, but it isn't _home_! I wanna be _home _decorating our nursery like we should be - like we have every right to be!''

Steve realized there was no arguing (however gently and sensibly) with the pregnant, hormonal version of his wife...so he picked up the phone and called Mark.

''Siccing the shrink on me won't help!'' Jaime grumbled. She finally sank (heavily) onto the sofa.

''You like Mark,'' Steve reminded her.

''Doesn't mean he's gonna change my mind about this - doesn't even mean I feel like seeing him right now!''

Steve kissed his wife's forehead and gave her a smile. ''I love you,'' he said simply. (There was really nothing else he could add at this point.)

Thankfully, Mark was ensconced only minutes away. Steve met him at the door and whispered ''Help!''

Mark smiled. ''Have you discovered the basement yet?'' he asked softly. (The house was big enough that Jaime - still fuming on the sofa - couldn't hear him.) ''Maybe you should check it out and I'll see what I can do.''

''Be careful, my friend,'' Steve whispered in warning as he headed for the basement. ''You're walking into a minefield. She is _not happy_!''

Steve himself was quite happy with what he discovered in the basement. A mini gym had been set up, with a punching bag, a treadmill and even the set of graduating bars that Rudy used to test their strength. Steve walked over to the thickest bar, bent it in two and then decided to _run_.

Upstairs, Mark headed into the living room with a purple and silver box in his hands. ''Brought you a present,'' he told Jaime.

She took the box from his hands and laid into one of the cookies in a fashion that only a seven months pregnant woman could do, downing it in seconds. ''Thank you,'' she told him.

''I was planning to bring them for our coffee session tomorrow, but I had a feeling you might need them now.'' He watched as she devoured a second cookie...and still it invoked no smile. ''So let's talk,'' he suggested...drawing a scowl from Jaime. ''Nice place - really nice.''

''It's a dressed up prison - that's what it is,'' she groused.

''Alright, so you'd rather not be here,'' Mark allowed, ''but at least you're safe. And -''

''And I can't go further than the front driveway or the backyard!'' Jaime interrupted.

''Still a whole lot better than a bunker at an Air Force Base.''

''Not by much!''

Mark was rescued by the phone. He offered to get it, since Jaime's mouth was temporarily full of macadamia/white chocolate cookie. He listened carefully (in the kitchen, away from Jaime), asked a couple of very quiet questions then returned to the living room. ''I need to talk to your husband for a bit, to see how he's doing with all of this. You enjoy the cookies and I'll be back in a few minutes.''

Mark found Steve running at full speed on the treadmill. ''We need to talk,'' he said grimly.

Steve slowed his pace gradually and then stepped off. ''She get to you already, Doc?'' he chuckled.

''Oscar just called. There's a problem...''

''O...K...lay it on me, I guess,'' Steve told him.

''He went back to your house to check on the painters and they were already gone. Steve...your house was ransacked.''

Steve turned to the punching bag and hit it full force with his left fist, letting out a string of choice cuss words...then turned to Mark. ''They were probably looking for any sign of where we went. They'll be headed to the hotel, since I'm sure Jaime jotted down the reservation info.''

''Oscar's already on it. They've brought the _real _painters in for questioning...and there'll be a clean-up crew sent to your house, once Russ and his team finish scouring for evidence.''

''Well...good. Okay, Doc...what - if anything - do we tell Jaime? If we tell her, she's gonna go ballistic and probably want to go home and see what happened. Or worse yet, demand to help on the case. But if we don't tell her...we risk facing the wrath of the Preggo Lady when she does find out. Because Jaime _always_ finds out!''

* * *

Honesty, they decided, as difficult as it was, was their best option. Or rather, Mark decided...

''Our house?'' Jaime fumed. (Both men could sense a coming explosion of pregnant temper!) ''Who the _hell _let them in there in the first place and then didn't stay to watch them? Never mind; it doesn't matter! Steve, we have to end this! There has to be a way to draw them out...right here where we are!''

''We are _not _going to 'draw them out','' Steve told her calmly. ''At least, you aren't. And Oscar's already on this; let's give him a little time and see what he -''

''And see how long it is before we're sitting ducks?'' Jaime shot back. ''Because if they got through to our painters, they can certainly figure a way past that security system! Steve, we have no choice but to force a confrontation - to get it over with!''

Steve had to admit (to himself) that if Russ and Oscar's teams didn't come up with anything immediately useful, Jaime was probably right.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

By bedtime, Jaime had calmed down...at least a little bit. She agreed to let Oscar handle things (for now) and had even saved a cookie each for Steve and Mark. Once they were beneath the fluffy quilt, Steve drew her into his arms and began teasing her with kisses - and was relieved to feel her (finally) begin to relax to his touch. They made love gently and sweetly, both craving the physical comfort and the emotional union. When it was over, they stayed curled up in each other's arms to rest and catch their breath...and then joined once again, even more tenderly than before, their eyes never breaking contact as their bodies were finally satiated. For a few glorious hours, they felt _safe_ and comfortable.

* * *

Questioning of the 'real' painters went late into the night. Under pressure, they broke easily, telling Oscar and Jack Hanson everything. They'd been offered an obscene amount of money to step aside from the nursery painting job - and they simply couldn't resist. No, they didn't know the man who paid them but between them they were able to give a complete description. Hanson tried his best but could find nothing to charge them with and finally - just before midnight - they were released from custody.

Russ and his team were unable to find any usable prints at Jaime and Steve's house. It seemed that every item that had been broken into and/or searched had also been wiped clean - from the dressers and closet to the locked drawers in the desk. This was clearly the work of professionals. Finally, when it was nearly dawn, the clean-up crew was allowed in to begin their work.

A team of three hit men was apprehended at the hotel as they forced entry into the room that would've been Steve and Jaime's. Even taken by surprise, they were also professionals - very _expensive _professionals - and they had absolutely nothing to say.

At his new Base of Operations just outside of Los Angeles, Abe Rudolpho greeted the morning with a sneer and with renewed intentions for revenge that were only made stronger by the realization that his targets had eluded him. He cared not-at-all about the flunkies who'd lost their lives when Austin blew up his former base...but the loss of his money and time made bloodlust burn through his soul. He would get Steve Austin - and his lovely wife - no matter what the cost. Avenging a wrong was worth it to him.

* * *

Over omelets, toast and juice, Steve noticed that Jaime had grown quiet and pensive so he tried to draw her out the way that Mark might - with empathy. ''Awfully scary for you here, isn't it?'' he asked softly (with his best 'Mark Conrad' attitude).

''Scary...yeah,'' Jaime agreed. ''But it makes me mad too, that our lives are _controlled _like this!''

''I wouldn't say 'controlled', exactly -''

''Well, I would! Did we have a choice in coming here? And what happens when this threat is over, we go back home and you get sent out to save the world again? Or after the baby's born...and I get sent out? There's always going to be someone angry that we helped put them away - or destroyed their expensive 'toys' or -''

''Sweetheart, that's the life we've chosen for ourselves,'' Steve pointed out.

''Chosen...or drafted?''

''Maybe a half-measure of both,'' Steve admitted. ''But like you told me - not that long ago - it's in our blood. It's what we're good at and -''

''And we'll always have targets on our backs because of it! And our baby! How can we ever expect her to have a normal life when she's gonna need bodyguards just to go to school?''

''You could always teach him at home,'' Steve said sensibly. ''You've got a teaching certificate and we -''

''That isn't the point! How do we ever feel really, truly safe - when the fact is that we aren't safe. Between putting the bad guys away, potential kidnapping so foreign governments can 'harvest' our parts and God only knows what else...we'll never be _safe_. Ever. So tell me - how do you do it? How do you keep going, keep doing what we're both 'built to do' when you know you're always in jeopardy? All. The. Time.''

''Well,'' Steve said carefully, ''in this case, I put my trust in Oscar. It's in his best interests to make sure that any threat is eliminated...for the government's sake, yes, but because he cares about us too. And the rest, the every day stuff you mentioned, you just learn to let it go by - to live with it without thinking about it - because you know in your heart that you're doing good work, work that really means something -''

''And occasionally even saves the world,'' Jaime added quietly.

''You could say that too. Look at it like this: police officers have to live with the same threats and the same fear - maybe not to the same degree, but they do.''

''So you're basically saying it's a tough job but someone has to do it...'' Jaime responded.

''Well...yes. And like someone I love more than anything in this world put it...it's in our blood.''

* * *

By that evening, there had still been no usable leads uncovered but Jaime's mood seemed to have lightened considerably. Steve hoped it was at least in part because of what he'd said to her - a discussion they'd continued when Mark came to 'have coffee' with them. She seemed a little more at peace now, even venturing outside to light the grill and relaxing on the patio to watch him grill the chicken. But he'd known his wife since she was five years old - and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. He also knew that whatever Jaime was planning, plotting or cooking up in her mind, he'd have to wait patiently until she was good and ready to share it.

That time came right after they'd made love, as Steve was just drifting off to sleep. Jaime was curled up in the crook of his arm...and suddenly poked him in the ribs. ''We need to get Oscar here first thing in the morning,'' she announced. ''I know how we're gonna end this!''


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Steve thanked Oscar for coming and gave him a look that he hoped said _Let's humor my largely-pregnant wife and hear her out before we tell her why it won't work_. Oscar greeted Jaime warmly, with a broad smile and a kiss on her cheek before accepting a mug of coffee and sitting down at the table.

Jaime couldn't wait any longer to get started. ''Oscar, who knew that Steve and I were having the nursery painted?''

''Just Doctors Corinth and Hammond, Mark Conrad, Rudy and myself.''

''Right. And none of you really had any cause to talk about it, even with each other, except for - I'm guessing a meeting in your office to talk about us.''

''Well...uh...yes,'' Oscar admitted.

''That's fine,'' Jaime said lightly. ''It's what you do. Your office is swept for 'bugs' every morning, right?''

Oscar nodded. ''Without fail.''

''Okay, so no one would have any cause to talk about the painters after that. Agreed?''

''Sweetheart,'' Steve interrupted, ''where are you going with this?'' (Wherever it was, she was certainly taking the long way!)

''Mark's phone is bugged,'' Jaime said simply (as though it was the most logical answer on the planet). ''That Rudolpho guy had someone tap Mark's phone.''

''And you know that...how?'' Steve asked.

''You called him so he could come and let the painters in, didn't you? And gave him all the details?''

''You're right,'' Steve acknowledged.

''I usually am.''

''But that doesn't mean -''

''So here's what we're gonna do...''

* * *

Mark made the phone call (over to Rudy's office) exactly as instructed. ''We've got big problems!'' he said, putting the proper notes of anger and near-panic into his voice. ''I went to see 'our patients' this morning...and they're _gone_. And -''

Rudy, of course, had been clued in on the plan, too. ''They're _what_?!'' he thundered.

''Gone. As in no longer there. They left a couple of notes - one for me, because they knew I was coming, and a sealed one for Oscar. It's Jaime's handwriting. She said they're tired of living the OSI life. That was how she put it. And that they don't want their baby raised that way. They've taken off for a cabin in the Sierras and apparently they're not coming back.''

''Ever?''

''Ever.''

''I assume you called Oscar?'' Rudy asked.

''No. The note specifically asked me to give him this envelope - that it's their joint resignation,'' Mark told him.

''Listen to me carefully,'' Rudy instructed. ''_Do not _call Oscar - and hang onto that envelope too. Once Oscar knows what they've done, he's obligated to notify the NSB - and they'll drag Jaime and Steve off in shackles to take them to that prison that they call a 'retirement community'.''

''But Jaime's seven months pregnant! Shackles?''

''Exactly. I think you and I can get them to reconsider,'' Rudy suggested. ''I have a few patients to see first but could leave in about two hours, if that works for you.''

''That's fine - except they didn't leave directions.''

''I know where they are. Steve's owned a cabin up there for years; says the seclusion is relaxing, when he can get away. It's about an hour's drive, then the second - no the third - turn-off from the main highway that runs along the bottom of the mountain range. And the first dirt road that turns off from that. We can't miss it; it's the only one at the end of that road. Like I said, secluded.''

''If they wanted to run away, sounds like they picked a great spot,'' Mark concluded.

''Meet me in my office in two hours, and we'll head up there,'' Rudy promised. ''But in the meantime, hang onto that other envelope and _don't _call Oscar about this. If...if we can't convince them to come back, we'll tell him together.''

''Sounds like a plan,'' Mark agreed, hanging up the phone.

* * *

Up at the safe house, Doctor Corinth was performing his most creative work ever. He was creating very realistic bullet holes on Steve and Jaime's heads. He fashioned Steve's first and it came out looking exactly as he'd hoped. Doctor Hammond smiled his approval. ''Very impressive work,'' he praised.

Jaime frowned. ''Shouldn't there be more gore? There's not even any blood!''

''He died instantly,'' Corinth told her, ''at the hands of a professional hit man. One shot, straight into the temple. And dead men don't bleed.''

Jaime shivered at the thought.

Steve got up and gave her a quick kiss and Corinth patted the cushion her husband had just vacated. ''Your turn,'' he told her. ''I'll give you some bruising around the wound, like it was at more of an angle...and maybe a trickle of blood, a few brain flecks...''

''I'm not sure I can watch this,'' Steve groaned. ''But I know I don't wanna hear about my wife's brain flecks and blood splatters...'' Indeed, when Corinth had finished, Steve couldn't bear to even glance at Jaime.

* * *

In his office at OSI-Los Angeles, Russ waited for word and tried to mentally prepare himself for the part he had to play. If he messed it up, the entire plan would be in ruins. Could he convince the man who had cold-bloodedly ordered the deaths of a pair of newlyweds - one of whom was heavily pregnant - that he was a professional hit man?


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Oscar and Jack's teams (having had a head start before Mark made his phone call) were ready and waiting. When the gray sedan made the turn up the dirt road, the lookouts radioed ahead that 'company' was about to arrive...and everyone put their hands on their weapons and got ready to move in. They watched from their carefully selected vantage points as one man moved to the back of the cabin while the other waited out front - then both kicked the doors in and opened fire. The (quite realistic) dummies had been angled on the sofa to look like Jaime and Steve were in each other's arms and deep into a make-out session, so the faces weren't visible from either doorway. The resulting explosions from their heads startled the hit men just long enough for the teams to move in and nab them - and their driver. Once all three were in custody, Oscar radioed down the mountain to their base of operations.

''We got them; send Russ up now,'' he instructed. It was time for his young assistant to show what he could do. Russ, having just arrived at the base of the mountain, was driven up to the cabin. As expected, the hit men had carried radios and Russ took one and walked over toward the trees, still mentally preparing himself even as he hit the 'Transmit' button.

''Yeah...it's done,'' he radioed succinctly.

''You got proof for me?'' came the voice on the other end.

''Of course; just tell me where to bring it.''

''I'll send a messenger to the general store at the base of the mountain,'' Rudolpho told him.

''So you want your proof without my paycheck?'' Russ grumbled, falling easily into his part, after all. ''Hell no. I'll bring it in person so you can admire our handiwork - and _pay me_.'' Of course they realized that whether or not the (carefully concocted) 'proof' was delivered, 'Jaime and Steve' were just as dead but they were counting on the assumption that this man would want to glory in what he'd arranged...and they were right. He gave Russ an address - and Russ (and the combined forces of the OSI and NSB) headed rapidly toward the West Los Angeles location before Rudolpho could change his mind.

Once everyone was in place, Russ (wired for sound) made his way inside and through a labyrinth of short hallways to the den where Abe was waiting for him. They were taking a huge risk on Jaime's assumption that Rudolpho had never actually met his hired guns...and once again, she was right. Russ wordlessly handed Abe the photos of Jaime and Steve 'dead' (with their 'bullet wounds' clearly visible) and Abe smiled broadly as he inspected the 'evidence' of his success.

''Excellent,'' Abe said gleefully.

''Went off without a hitch,'' Russ told him. ''They never knew what hit 'em.''

Abe Rudolpho also never knew what hit him. Within seconds, the building was flooded with OSI and NSB agents who took everyone they found into custody as they moved rapidly toward the den. Russ himself was the one to slap the cuffs on their quarry. It was over.

* * *

''Done, in the bag - and wrapped up with a big, shiny red ribbon!'' Jaime crowed when they received the news.

''I'm so proud of you,'' Steve said, pulling her close in a tender embrace. He forced himself to ignore the purple 'bruise' make-up that hadn't quite washed off with the rest of the 'proof' from her head. It was so realistic-looking that it made his heart ache, remembering all the (recent) times that Jaime had actually been hurt - and hurt badly. Even just a few weeks earlier, the sight might've sent him into a flashback, but the regular therapy sessions they'd been having with Mark - separately and together - seemed to be helping to banish most of their issues. Jaime still had nightmares but only around once a week or less - and Steve felt secure enough to fall asleep with her now, rather than stay awake to see if she'd need him.

''Steve, we can go home now - already!'' Jaime told him triumphantly. While they'd been staying in what was designed to be the lap of luxury, there was nothing quite as luxurious (for them) as _home_.

The clean-up crew had done their job both efficiently and well. ''Steve - look!'' Jaime cried happily when she poked her head into the spare bedroom. They'd even painted the walls and trim, doing the work as well (or better) than if they'd been a hired painting crew.

Jaime giggled with delight as an especially hard baby-kick caught her right in the ribcage. She placed her husband's hand on her stomach...and Steve smiled. ''I think she approves,'' Jaime said softly.

''Oh, I'm sure _he_ does,'' Steve agreed. ''But you know, maybe we should've ordered two cribs; from the look of that belly of yours...''

''Steve Austin, bite your tongue!''

Of course, she slugged him.

- - - - -


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Jaime seemed to be growing bigger - and crankier - by the day. Luckily, Steve found her extra-feisty attitude 'cute' and was often able to tease it away. One week after Abe's arrest, she was sitting in 'his' easy chair in her old, comfy bathrobe - with her arms stubbornly folded across her chest.

''Mark'll be here any minute, Sweetheart,'' Steve told her with a wry smile. ''Think maybe you should get dressed?''

''No.''

''Seeing as that robe's a little..._ancient_...and you've got nothing on underneath it...''

''I'm comfortable.''

Steve chuckled. From the look on her face, 'comfortable' didn't appear an apt description...but he went with it anyway. ''Well, I'm sure Mark would want you to be comfortable...but maybe you could be comfortable in your sweats...or even pajamas.''

''No.''

''C'mon; I'll help you.'' Steve gently took Jaime's arm, leaning in to kiss her cheek to try and soften her mood.

''I can get up by myself!'' she grumbled. ''But...a little help would be nice.'' Jaime groaned as she hefted herself out of the chair, even with Steve's patient assistance. ''I'm as big as a damn Sherman tank!''

''When you pass the size of a CH-47 chopper, then we'll worry,'' he told her lightly. ''Besides, you still have at least a month to go - probably a little more than that.''

''Don't remind me!'' For someone who'd always been lithe and graceful, awkwardness was especially tough for Jaime; it made her even grumpier. But with Steve's help, she changed into a pair of pajamas - then threw the tattered old robe over them with a devilish grin. ''What? I _like _it!'' she insisted.

Steve knew better than to argue the small stuff. At least she was presentable now. Jaime began her 'duck-walk' back out to the living room with Steve right behind her...which proved to be a good thing when she stopped in the middle of the hallway, wincing and doubling over for a split second before reaching for the wall. Steve caught her and helped her back to the bed. ''What just happened, Sweetheart?''

''Doctor Hammond said I might feel some weird pains that mean my tummy is stretching faster these last few weeks,'' she explained. ''That's all it was.''

''Can I get you anything - or do anything to help?''

''Can you carry this baby for a few days?''

''Sorry. I would if I could, just to give you a break.'' Steve bent over the bed for a kiss...just as she flinched again. ''I don't kiss _that _badly...do I?'' he asked with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

''Just 'stretching' pain,'' Jaime insisted. ''Really annoying though.''

''I'll call Doctor Hammond, just to be on the safe side.''

''I'm really not in the mood.''

Steve gave her another kiss, heard the doorbell - and let Mark in. ''Watch out,'' he warned. ''Someone's cranky. And...she's having some pain. If you wanna go on in, I'm just gonna call Hammond. I'd rather tick her off and err on the side of caution.''

''Steve tells me you're not feeling the greatest,'' Mark said by way of a greeting for his patient.

Jaime leaned back against a mountain of pillows. ''I'm uncomfortable, I'm already bigger than a house - and I still have over a month to go,'' she groused. ''Any questions?''

''I think you've covered it pretty well,'' Mark chuckled. ''You're having some pain though?''

''Nothing serious. Steve worries too much.''

''I'm glad to see he's taking good care of you,'' Mark told her. ''While I've got you alone, how are the two of you doing with the question of this baby's father? Are you coping alright?''

''It's...hard,'' Jaime admitted. ''We talk about it sometimes, and we've agreed it takes more than sperm to make a father. But still...it's just...hard.''

''I think you hit the nail on the head there - parenthood is more than what's in the blood,'' Mark agreed. ''It's the little things, like calling the doctor when your wife is in pain...even when she says she's alright.''

''And making me put clothes on before the shrink visits,'' Jaime agreed.

''Yes - that's always a good thing too.''

''Doctor Hammond is on his way,'' Steve announced, joining them.

Jaime nodded wearily...and flinched again. ''Thank you,'' she said softly.

''Steve, we were just talking about what makes a man a 'father','' Mark told him. ''And how you fill the description - in spades.''

''I'm looking forward to it, Doc.''

''I'd say you're already there, in the way you care for Jaime, work around her moods and -''

''Excuse me?'' Jaime interrupted. ''What moods would those be?''

They talked a bit more, switching to light banter to try and raise Jaime's spirits until Doctor Hammond arrived, then Mark and Steve retreated to the living room to wait. ''So are you doing okay with...everything?'' Mark questioned. ''I mean _really _okay?''

Steve shrugged, his mind clearly on what might be happening in the bedroom. ''I have my moments, Doc,'' he allowed. ''Yeah, I still think about it, about how we might never know for sure. And I worry about Michael. He's not stupid; he probably knows why they took his blood. If he tries to cause trouble down the line for Jaime or for my son, I swear to God I'll -''

Steve was interrupted by Doctor Hammond, who hadn't spent more than a few minutes with his patient, but had clearly seen enough to know what was happening to her. ''We're going to the hospital,'' he announced, heading for the phone. ''In an ambulance.''


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Jaime was taken by ambulance to Clayton Memorial, Doctor Hammond's 'home' hospital, a little further than National but his equipment was there. The trip was tense and relatively quiet. Hammond put Jaime on her left side and started an IV with hydration fluids and medication.

''I'm...in labor?'' Jaime whispered, not wanting to believe it. At just shy of 31 weeks, the thought terrified her.

''I wouldn't call this full-blown labor,'' Hammond told her (and her worried husband beside her). ''But you've had some contractions and your blood pressure is very high. We'll be trying to control both with medication and bed rest. I'll run some tests and be better able then to tell you where things stand. But for now, I need you to lie very still...and quiet.''

Steve held her hand and did his best to soothe her for the rest of the ride and then while Jaime was being settled into a room and initial treatments were begun, Doctor Hammond met with Steve. ''Jaime's blood pressure is dangerously high,'' he began. ''And with her history of cerebral hemorrhage and blood clots, if we can't get her stabilized with meds and fluids, I'm afraid we'll have to induce. I've already explained this to your wife - and she's given me a definite 'no' to induction of labor. It's still only a maybe...but I need you to try and talk to her about it...maybe with Mark Conrad, when he gets here. If she doesn't stabilize - and _quickly_- her life is at risk.''

''I understand,'' Steve said quietly. ''What about the baby?''

''The baby - if born tonight - would be very small. Approximately two and a half to three pounds.''

''Would he survive?''

''Quite possibly. After 30 weeks, the survival rate for premies increases dramatically, but Jaime's right at that cut-off. Ideally, I'm hoping to get her blood pressure under control, stop the contractions and go from there, but if not, decisions will have to be made - possibly very quickly.''

''I'll talk to her; can I go in now?''

Hammond nodded. ''She should be settled. I'll send Mark in when he gets here.''

Steve peered in the door cautiously before going in, unsure of what sort of physical (and mental) state Jaime would be in. She was very pale and obviously frightened, lying on her left side and being attended to by a nurse who was basically there just to try and soothe her. The nurse saw Steve, patted Jaime's hand and left quickly to allow them the time to be together.

''Hi, Sweetheart,'' Steve said very softly. He sat down next to the bed and took his wife's trembling hands in his own.

''Did Doctor Hammond talk to you?'' Jaime asked.

''Yeah, he did. Jaime, you need to listen to him...and let him do what he feels is necessary for your health.''

''No. I...can't...I can't let him do that! It's too soon!'' She was getting riled up at just the thought, and Steve caressed her face, brushing the hair from her tearful eyes in an attempt to calm her.

''Sweetheart, the baby would have a decent chance -''

''No.'' Jaime said firmly. ''Just...no.''

Steve saw the firm set of her jaw and knew he would gain nothing through reasoning (or even arguing) with her - and that even Mark would be unable to change her mind. Steve would have to hope that her stubbornness didn't result in a medical crisis that placed the decision firmly and solely in his lap. If it came down to it, could he go against his wife's strongly-stated wishes...if it meant saving her life? Of course, he could.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, the contractions had been halted but Jaime's blood pressure was still sky-high. It hadn't risen any further, which Doctor Hammond told them was a promising sign - and he increased the dosage of her medication, telling Steve (privately) that while he was more hopeful than he'd been that morning, a decision would have to be made in a few hours if things didn't improve.

By evening...finally some good news. Jaime's pressure was still high, but it had dropped considerably. The drugs were working! ''We'll do an ultrasound in the morning, to see how the baby is faring,'' Hammond told them. ''It's the main reason I had you brought here instead of National. Once your blood pressure returns to the normal range and stays that way for 72 hours, I'll release you to home...but you'll be on bed rest for the duration.'' He eyed his patient carefully; he knew how willful she could be - and that bed rest for weeks or even a month wouldn't sit well...but Steve spoke up before Jaime could protest.

''I'll make sure the little lady stays put, Doc,'' he promised, in his best Southern drawl. ''I'll lasso and wrangle her if necessary.''

''I'll do it,'' Jaime insisted. ''I'll behave...I promise!''

In the morning, the news was even better. Her blood pressure had returned to the normal range...and for Jaime, the countdown to _home _began. She tried to wheedle the doctor down to 48 hours but he stood firm. Once Rudy had arrived to see the ultrasound machine in action, Jaime was wheeled down for the test, with Steve close by her side. The technician rubbed the jelly (ice cold, according to Jaime) on her stomach and then began gently moving the heavy wand over the baby, while Doctor Hammond eyed the monitor.

''Oh...'' Doctor Hammond said, before he could stop himself. ''Rudy, you'll want to see this.'' Hammond also wanted a second set of trained medical eyes to see what he was seeing...before he told Jaime and Steve.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

''Extra leg on there, Doc?'' Steve joked. ''Told you it was twins, Sweetheart...''

Except when Rudy looked at the monitor's picture, he wasn't laughing...or even smiling. His back was to Jaime and Steve, so they couldn't see his face, but the older doctor's eyes were grim. ''Absolutely fascinating piece of machinery,'' he told Hammond.

Hammond got the message; they would confer privately before saying anything to Jaime or Steve. ''Your baby looks good,'' he told them truthfully. ''The right size and well-formed. And sorry, Steve - only one.''

Jaime was wheeled back upstairs (Steve by her side, of course), with a reassuring smile from her doctors...who then sat down together to stare at the image they'd frozen on the screen.

''Her uterine wall has expanded downward,'' Hammond began, not entirely sure of what this would mean in Jaime's very special case.

Rudy nodded. ''It's pressing directly on the connection points for her legs. That could create serious problems, if the wall expands further and presses any harder. Her legs could begin producing more energy and send it coursing through her body, raising her blood pressure again...even higher. Or - and please understand this is only an educated guess - it could send her into bionic rejection...and kill her.''

''This would explain why she's gotten so large so quickly. She's run out of room in the direction the wall is trying to go...so she's expanding outward instead...for now. Things may grow in an entirely different direction - out toward the sides, which is normally the way the wall _should_ expand. On the other hand, I can't guarantee it won't do exactly what you've suggested and press even harder toward her legs. This involves your area of expertise as much as it does mine - and you've known them a lot longer. What do _you _think we should tell Jaime and Steve?''

''If her blood pressure stays where it should be and if she's a cooperative patient and stays in bed for 72 hours - which knowing Jaime, will be very difficult - I say we send her home and say nothing...for now. We'll keep a close eye for any complications, biological or bionic, and go from there.''

''Do you really think that's wise?'' Hammond asked.

''Like you said, Jaime's uterine wall could expand now in the 'normal' direction, in which case we have no problem. It sounds like that's the most likely course. And if we tell Jaime and Steve all of this, the news will be devastating to them - and probably for no reason. Jaime's blood pressure could skyrocket out of fear and Steve will drive her out of her mind with his hovering to the point where she'll run away from bed rest like the bed's on fire. We'll check on her every morning, just like Mark does, and hope for the best...since the best is most likely what will happen anyway.''

* * *

Jaime grumbled, groused, pouted and even whined a little...but managed to stay in bed for the full 72 hours. Finally, it was time to go _home_! ''We can finish decorating the nursery now,'' she chattered happily in the car. ''We can put up the appliques, set up the changing table, the crib and -''

''Whoa there, Tiger,'' Steve told her (smiling at her exuberance). ''One of us is staying in bed...remember?''

''Oh yeah. Well then, you can put up the appliques and I can go in and look when you're finished.''

''Try again.''

''Just stick in a pin in my balloon, why don't you?'' Jaime pouted. ''Fine. You can take pictures of every single detail and show them to me, even though I'm right in the very next room.''

''That's more like it,'' Steve agreed.

''Oh, and I hope you have the number for every take-out place in the area,'' she chattered. ''Otherwise...we're gonna starve!''

''I resemble that remark, Lady! And for your information, not only can I slap together sandwiches...I can also grill!''

''Um...''

''Right. Scratch the grill. But I did scramble you an egg, remember? And if I can do that, I can learn to make other things too...like maybe canned soup.''

''Or hot dogs...if you can get the water to boil!''

''TV dinners!'' he shot back.

''Toast!''

''I made toast with your egg that morning, remember? And it wasn't even burned. So it looks like you lose this round,'' Steve laughed.

In the driver's seat, Mark had to smile at Jaime's cheerfulness and the loving, gentle way Steve kept her in line. He hoped that same gentle way would keep her doing what she was supposed to do, once they got home together. Mark had been fully briefed on what the doctors had seen on the ultrasound, and he supported Rudy's decision to keep it from them (for now), Steve would already be keeping a closer eye on Jaime than even a team of four doctors could - and their happy banter was a wonderful sign that in spite of being extremely uncomfortable (in Jaime's case) and extremely worried (in Steve's), they were _united_. So hopefully Jaime would listen to Steve (and to her doctors) and do what she was supposed to do. If strictly enforced bed rest could hold off labor for even a couple more weeks (and barring any of the possible complications brought up by the ultrasound), chances were excellent that both Jaime and the baby would be fine. Those were some pretty big 'ifs' but Mark was certain that if anyone could weather this, it would be these two. He glanced in the rear view and saw Steve tenderly holding his wife, with Jaime leaning into his strength - and Mark knew they were already a family. The baby's arrival would only strengthen their bond and any difficulties that might be thrown their way would be met head-on and dealt with..._together_.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

''But fresh air would be good for the baby...and for me!'' Jaime insisted. ''I'll even go in the wheelchair. Please?''

''Sweetheart,'' Steve said patiently, ''if it were up to me, I'd take you in a heartbeat. All I know is I was told to keep you in that bed...and that's where you need to stay until they tell me otherwise.''

''You are _no fun_. Austin!''

''Feel like some Monopoly?''

''No.''

''Couple hands of poker?''

''No!''

Steve smiled...and kissed her. ''Maybe a nap would do you some good. I'll just go work on the nursery and come back later.''

''Arrrrgh!''

Steve knew her well; he ducked - and thus avoided the pillow that'd been tossed at his head,

* * *

''She's cranky as hell,'' Steve warned the doctors the next morning. ''Listen, would it be okay if I take her out to the backyard, just for a little while? S'posed to be nice out today; she could use the fresh air and change of scenery...''

''Sorry, Steve,'' Rudy told him. ''We need Jaime to stay lying down in that bed - or we'll put her back in the hospital.''

''Why do I get the feeling this is more serious than you guys are letting on?'' Steve asked.

Rudy patted him on the shoulder. ''You're on the right track; just keep doing what you're doing.''

The doctors felt reassured after seeing Jaime. Being at home truly agreed with her. But Steve had been right; she most definitely was _cranky_.

''Are you sure I'm not having twins...or triplets?'' Jaime fretted at them ''Look at me; I'm _huge_! When I finally do go into labor, you're gonna have to take me out of here with a forklift and crane!''

''We're sure,'' Hammond told her, smiling. ''The ultrasound showed only one baby.''

''Yeah? Well, she's gonna be the NFL's first female linebacker, the way she keeps slamming into my ribs.''

''Any more contractions?'' Hammond asked.

''No. I wanna go outside.''

''Any trouble breathing...or catching your breath?'' Rudy inquired.

''No.''

''Everything looks good,'' Hammond told her. ''No dilation so far; looks like we've managed to stop labor. And your blood pressure's firmly in the range of normal. Just try to hang in there; it's only for a few weeks.''

Jaime nodded, forgetting her bad mood for at least a full minute. ''When she's born healthy, this'll all be worth it.''

* * *

Steve put one perfect rose in a bud vase and placed it on the tray with a baked chicken breast, mashed potatoes and buttered (fresh) carrots. He poured a glass of milk and headed into the bedroom. Jaime smiled warmly, rewarding his efforts. ''It's not even take-out,'' he told her. ''I'm learning.''

''You know this means you'll get to cook - at least sometimes - even when I'm back on my feet again, right?'' She took a bite of the chicken. ''It's delicious; thank you.''

''I have another surprise for you,'' Steve told her. ''Be right back.'' He returned with his hands behind his back. ''Close your eyes.''

Jaime complied...and opened them to find a tiny Siamese kitten climbing up her chest to nuzzle her face. ''Steve, she's adorable!''

''He,'' Steve corrected. ''Just like our baby. And you need to lie back down on your left side now - but I'm sure he'll keep you company.'' He pulled up a chair. ''And so will I.''

''Our daughter will adore him,'' she predicted, giggling as the kitten climbed up her shoulder and started licking her face. ''Guess I won't be needing that sponge bath today, after all,'' she told her husband.

''Hey, I was looking forward to that!'' Steve protested. ''Have you thought anymore about names? For our son, I mean.''

''I love the name 'Rebecca'...but still thinking about it. For a boy though...Steven Carl.''

''Uh-uh. Sorry,'' Steve told her.

''We don't need a boy's name anyway...but why not?''

'''The first time you're really angry and call out that name...I'd head for the hills out of self-preservation. Or don my flak suit and helmet!''

''You would have to throw a monkey wrench into it, wouldn't you?'' Jaime laughed, scratching the kitten behind its ears.

''Monkey wrenches are my hobby. And I do like the name 'Rebecca', by the way.'' He tried it out for size. ''Becky Austin...not bad.''

''_Becca_,'' Jaime corrected.

''Very nice. And even though we're having a boy...I'd love a little girl.''

''You'd spoil her rotten!''

''That's my job,'' he agreed. Steve placed a loving hand on his wife's swollen belly...just in time to feel something 'off'...and alarming. Instead of the expected kick, he felt the muscles tighten...and Jaime winced. It happened again, even harder - and Jaime clutched her stomach, grabbing Steve's hand (still resting there) and squeezing it hard as she cried out in _pain_.

''Call...the doctor!'' she gasped.

Steve took one look at his wife - especially her face - and instantly made up his mind. Calling Hammond (or any of the others) right now would be wasting precious minutes. ''No; we're going to the hospital,'' he told her. ''I'll use the car phone once we're on the way.''

Jaime nodded - and for once, she didn't argue. Steve reached for the wheelchair then thought better of it and hefted Jaime into his arms instead. With his left hand, he grabbed her (already packed) overnight bag and she clung to him as he carried her out to the car.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Steve settled Jaime into the backseat, with the clothes from her overnight bag as a pillow. She was barely able to catch her breath as she tried unsuccessfully to stay on top of the pain. As he pulled out of the driveway, he reached for his car phone. Hammond wasn't in his office and neither was Corinth...and there was no time to wait for a page. _Where the hell did all this traffic come from_? he wondered as he dialed Rudy's office.

Jaime sobbed quietly as wave after wave of pain hit her with no respite. Luckily, Rudy was in his office making notes in Jaime's file and he picked up on the second ring.

''It's me. We have a problem!'' Steve said urgently, trying to keep an eye on Jaime in the rear view as he pulled into traffic. ''She's in _pain _- a LOT of it - almost constant. We're in the car and -''

''You're what?'' (Why hadn't he just called an ambulance?)

''Do you want me to take her to Clayton, where Doctor Hammond is, or -''

''Don't waste the time,'' Rudy instructed. ''Bring her here. I'll page Hammond now.'' Quickly, he pushed the buttons on his second phone line and then got right back to Steve. ''Listen to me carefully,'' Rudy told him. ''There's a problem with the pregnancy's interaction with Jaime's bionics. Her blood pressure -''

''Steve, I need you...'' Jaime said from the backseat in a tight, frightened voice.

''Sweetheart, I'm driving as fast as I can. There's way too much traffic. Go ahead, Rudy.''

''Her blood pressure is probably the highest it's been...and there's a risk she could go into full rejection. You need to get her here _fast_! I'll start -''

''Pull the car over, Steve,'' Jaime told him, her voice small, thin and as shaky as she was.

''We're about halfway there,'' Steve told both his wife and Rudy.

''Jaime needs to focus on taking slow, deep breaths - as deep as she can manage,'' the doctor told Steve.

''Take some slow, deep breaths, Sweetheart -''

''_Pull the damn car over, Steve! NOW_''

Steve swerved from the fast lane over toward the shoulder, narrowly missing getting creamed by another car. He skidded to a stop, took a look at his wife...and nearly froze. ''Uh, Rudy?'' he began. ''We might be past the 'slow, deep breaths' thing. I see the top of a head...''

''I'll call an ambulance to come and find you. Meanwhile, here's what you have to do...'' He quickly but thoroughly walked Steve through the steps he'd have to take, since there was now no other choice. Then ''You tend to Jaime - and the baby - and I'll call the ambulance.''

The phone had no speaker, so Steve had to set the receiver down on the seat. In his head, he was thinking _Please God...not this. Don't let this be happening_... but he stayed calm for his wife's sake. It happened very fast. When the ambulance found them, Steve was straddling the two backseat foot wells...holding a very small but perfectly formed newborn in his hands.

He looked up with a grin that was stupid with relief. ''I...we...have a _daughter_,'' he told the paramedics. ''_It's a girl!_''

* * *

END OF EPISODE ONE


End file.
